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Beyond the Illoon 

Cordelia B. Makarius 



Copyrighted 1922 
All rights reserved 






C1A690098 



DEC 16 1922 



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TO MY MOTHER 

Who has stood by me in all 

my escapades 



INDEX OF TITLES 

Curtain 5 

Sappho 6 

When I Was in Ohio 7 

Moon 8 

A Song 9 

Me 10 

Why 10 

Flash 11 

The Soul 12 

Reflections 12 

A Rainy Day in Autumn 13 

Living Lacquer 30 

Immortality 14 

1 Saw the Cows Come Home 18 

Question 18 

The Letter That I Did Not Write 16 

May Morning 15 

My Debt 17 

Dilemma 17 

On Reading Keats 30 

Creed 19 

A Prayer 20 

Beyond the Moon 21-22 

—Perhaps 23 

Love Song 24 

With You 25 

The Bullet Factory 26 

Circumstance 27 

Diesolation 29 

Wonder 28 

Sahruh 29 

I Am No Poet 31 

Wander Lust 32 

— Received Honorable Mention in "Poets of the 
Future" for 1921-1922. 

4 



CURTAIN 

The rain comes down in thin gray sheets 
And sHthers on the ground. 
Brown leaves just hanging by a thread 
Break sadly off and sail along 
Like bits of old brown cloth 
Flung by a careless hand 
From the window of a building 
Tall and slim. 

The half -gaunt trees now stand 
With withered arms thrown to the sky^ 
While last year's corn beside the road 
Bends lower to the rapid beat 
Of rainy needles hurling down. 
The earth sends up a pungent mist, 
A sting-like smell of old pine cones 
Or ground new ploughed and left to lie 
A gash with tiny seeds to heal. 
The sky appears and old gray slate 
That many a sponge has washed. 
The only noise that comes to ear 
Is the rasping caw of crows. 
A spineless figure dressed in clothes, 
^ Stuck up to keep the birds away. 
Flaps with each gust of shifting wind. 
The rain comes down in thickening sheets. 
The tiny streams formed by the road 
Now turn to foot wide gully shapes, 
While all around is deep'ning gray 
Obscurity. 



SAPPHO 

Should some faint note 

Of Sappho's deathless lyre 

Come singing down the ages 

Here to me, 

I'd stand with ears astrain 

Lest in that brief, sweet, time 

I'd lose an instant's ecstacy. 

Who knows but in that touch 

Of her sweet lyric voice 

Some mark would stamp itself 

Upon my own. 

What greater joy than I should catch 

A breathless note, a lark in flight, 

For one short moment as it's poised, 

A bird caught in a poem 



WHEN I WAS IN OHIO 

When I was in Ohio 
With her yellow waving wheat, 
With her grasses and her gardens, 
And her clover blossoms sweet, 
I thought that seas were keener, 
And I longed for mountain heights. 
Her sweetly slumb'ring beauty 
For me held no delights. 
When I was in Ohio. 

When I was in Ohio 

I saw no rip'ning corn. 

No meadows larks entranced me 

With their songs at early morn. 

My eyes saw other pictures. 

Of fir clad, rocky hills. 

And sea gulls in the distance. 

And a dashing surf that chills. 

When I was in Ohio. 

Now I have left Ohio 

With her fences prim and straight, 

With her farms and farmers houses 

That show white painted gates. 

I see now all around me 

Grim hills with pine and fir, 

No gently waving grain fields 

Bend low as breezes stir. 

Now I have left Ohio 

Since I have left Ohio 
How much I've longed to see 
A straight white ribbon highroad 
Stretch out in front of me. 
I'm tired of fiercer nature 
With its bluff and rock grim look. 
I'd give a dozen mountains 
For just a peaceful brook. 
Since I have left Ohio. 



O MOON 

O Moon, that hangs half sagging, 

Half mounting in the sky. 

How near you are to my dear heart's desire. 

Perhaps, half knowing. 

In the solemn hush 

She learns from you my own heart's 

yearning fire. 
Guard her for me 
Who sees her not, 

You, who know the loves of all the world. 
Look down on her, then look on me. 
That I may perhaps a dim reflection see 
Of her dear eyes. 
Caress with gentle rays 
Her face upturned in rapture to your own. 
(Would that it were upturned to me.) 
My song of love convey to her, a song 
Which I send winging up to you. 
O Moon, enfold her with your light 
And loving you she will but dimly know 
That it is I ablend with your great soul 
In the graying dimness of the night. 



A SONG 

The songs of little birds, 
Why do they ring so sweet? 
Why do they tell my heart 
That all of joy is fleet? 

How can a song like that 
Bring pain beyond compare? 
How can they sing all day 
When I am dulled with care? 

The time was when I loved 
To hear each tiny trill. 
I knew not then what pain 
Their sweet notes could distil. 

Now each a mem'ry brings 
That's twice as cruel as Death. 
But had I not known joy, 
No song I'd need forget. 



ME 

In me no flame of genius burns 

With all-consuming fire, 

No call of all infinity, 

No gift, nor aged desire, 

But just the smallest talent dwells, 

A small gift not despised. 

The gift of life, of hope, of love, 

To see with open eyes. 



WHY 

The purpled clouds draw the sun to sleep— 
The loon calls clear and high — 
Slowly across the dying light 
The wild ducks circle the sky. 

The moon an answering signal gives 
To the stars in the deep'ning blue. 
Why in all this soul's suircease — 
Why do I call to you ? 



10 



FLASH 

It is not I who sit here listless 

By the window box. 

I am far away with you. 

This body has its familiar look, 'tis true 

I recognize its well known hands 

In a closed and half clenched 

Grip of wordless agony. 

I live but twice within the day. 

A signal brings a wakening life, 

The shrilling whistle of the man 

Who brings me word of you. 

His uniform of blue 

Is the rainment of the God that we 

Call Mercury; he who brought 

Glad tidings to and from the Gods. 

Should you forget he comes to me 

Then I cease to live again 

Until the afternoon. 

How can this existence that I have 

Be called a living life? 

It is not I who sit here listless 

By the window box. 

I am far away with you. 



11 



THE SOUL 

The soul is the song- of creation, 
The work of the master of songs. 
The greater the heart of elation 
The deeper the heart of the song. 



REFLECTIONS 

I see reflections in the water, 
Gray-green mirrors which are your eyes. 
I see reflections in the water. 
Moving objects which I cannot penetrate 
To reach the soul of my desire. 



12 



A RAINY DAY IN AUTUMN 

Secure within the lamplit room, 

Listening to the merry tune 

Of the raindrop patter, 

Silvery music, dripping, dripping, 

Sets the heart beat now to tripping 

To its merry chatter. 

Without, leaves turning slowly gold. 
Here green just red'ning in the fold 
Gleam now with rainy lustre. 
Shy brown ones like small birds in flight 
Drift here, ghde there and then they light 
Wind blown in a small cluster. 

Gray birds, rain foolish, sailing home 

Seeking shelter all their own 

Rouse others in safe shelter. 

Cold twittering drifts to warmer soundj, 

Soft music as they settle down 

Rain dripping helter-skelter. 

Thus twilight falls an Autumn day, 

Gold bright, red flamed, green-brown array 

With duller colors blending. 

Gay flags careening in the gale 

Which icy fingers soon will hail 

And Autumn's at its ending. 



13 



IMMORTALITY 

We walked the woods, 

Just you and I, 

And tread the leaves 

While passing by, 

Pressing them down into the earth. 

Carelessly we laughed and played. 

I, the man — you, the maid. 

We chased the butterflies on the hill, 

Down the valley, up to the mill 

Whose creaking arms made you trill 

With laughter. 

Oh, love is big 

And love is brave. 

Love comes to knight 

And comes to knave. 

But love came best to you and me. 

We laughed and then we sang away 

Our glimpse of God's eternity. 

Oh, the sun still kisses the hill of old, 

The leaves have turned from green to gold. 

But to my heart the same old 

Love returns. 

We walked the woods 

Just you and I, 

And tread the leaves 

While passing by. 

Pressing them down into the earth. 



14 



MAY MORNING 

I woke this morning to the sounds of May: 

Awake — my soul — awake. 

The jay's in the tree, the lark's in the nest : 

Awake — my soul — ^awake. 

From the little green bud that's peeping through 

To the shyest violet head so blue 

All of it's calling to me — to you. 

Awakei — my soul — ^awake. 

My heart is weary of the cares of men : 

Awake — my soul — awake. 

The joy's in the heart that is young again: 

Awake — my soul — ^awake. 

The brook is now singing its song to you 

As it slips through the glens of lacey dew 

Carrying its song the whole day through. 

Awake — my soul — awake. 

Oh, now is the time to gather the gold 
To make — my soul — to make 
The coin of the fairest faiiry realm. 
Awake — my soul — awake. 
The buttercups shall the payment be 
To buy a soul that is glad and free 
To bring my happiest hours to me. 
Awake — my soul — awake. 

My soul this morning did not heed in vain. 

It waked — ^anew — it waked. 

It laughed and played and was young again. 

It waked — ^anew — it waked. 

The buttercups brought the fairies out, 

The birds and the bees all played about, 

And round my feet in the brook the trout 

Awaked — my soul — awaked. 



IS 



THE LETTER THAT I DID NOT WRITE 

All the passion, all the hope, 
All the love I could have felt 
Flamed its way with pen of fire. 
Words that burned and tried to melt 
The heart so cold to my desire. 

All the hatred, all the wrath, 
All the white heat of my soul 
Wormed itself across the page. 
Worked in red on toward its goal. 
Hate that tried to last an age. 

All the worshipi, all the love. 
All the madness of my heart 
Flowed in easy streams of gold. 
Words that made the hate depart. 
Just the same mad love of old. 



16 



MY DEBT 

Now am I able to repay 

The debt I owe to you, 

For just one hour of perfect bliss, 

For just one sky of all blue? 

A kiss that has its price is bought. 
A thousand kinds are old. 
The kind that you have giv'n to me 
Is neither bought nor sold. 

So now I must forever be 
In debt to you. I swear 
If debt is sweet as this is sweet 
Then all of life is fair. 



DILEMMA 

My Muse, the gay elusive sprite. 
Deserted me one rainy night. 

Every trap was set for her 

The swish of birch and swish of fir 

The softened gleam of glowing pine, 
Red coals that sink, then flare up fine 

Blue flames that seem to sink again. 
I called to her aloud and then 

She laughed in holy glee at me, 
This madcap elf of Poetry. 



17 



I SAW THE COWS COME HOME 

I saw the cows come home. 
Stately they walked beneath the trees 
Whose shadows fell in huge dark blotches 
'Gainst the gold of sun. 

I saw the cows come home. 
But in my soul I heard 
The stately tread of a thousand feet 
Beating hard the pavements at the end 
of day. 



QUESTION 

Why can't I puncture arrow-swift 

All moods, all loves, all things? 

Why can't I lose myself within 

The maze that insight brings? 

Why do I stand with calm outlook 

When deep I probe a wound 

Whose darting pain I've helped to give 

And drew the knife too soon? 

Why must I stand, a f leshless ghost, 

And watch the world go by? 

Why can't I sink my inner self 

In worlds of things and die ? 



18 



CREED 

The world that sits so snugly by 
Condemns the things I'm going to do. 
They'll shake their gloomy heads and brew- 
On ills of things that I will try. 

There is a spectre big that rules. 
Convention is its common name. 
It guards and stunts each one the same, 
This man-erected god of fools. 

They'll call me queer and nod in glee 
With "I told you so's" and other rot. 
They'll call me names that I am not 
And point the hand of scorn at me. 

What shall I care of what they'll do 
Or anything that they may say. 
My soul with high adventures plays, 
My God and I know what I do. 

I'd rather play as children play, 
Clean-minded, wild, and free. 
And let the old fools point at me 
As one who needsl must stay away. 

I'll sail grim seas and land on isles 
A thousand leagues away. 
I'll seek out lands where fairies play 
And sirens try their wiles. 

I'l worship hard at beauty's fire 
And whisper love songs, too. 
I'll do the things I want to do 
And leave the world its mire. 



19 



A PRAYER 

Lord God, Maker of Dreams 

Help me to play the game. 

I loved and lost, a sorry theme 

To bring before Thy Name. 

Help me to laugh the hurt away, 

To be a friend instead. 

Help me to keep the pain within. 

To keep far down the naked dread 

With which I face the dawn. 

The broken dreams, one by one. 

Help me to reconstruct. 

Let me not weep — a spineless toy — 

Tossed by a Fate abrupt. 

Help me to see Thy way my way 

With shoulders squared — a man of men. 

Help me, I pray Thee, to be true 

To myself as I know my best. 

Amen. 



20 



BEYOND THE MOON 

Pale moon agleam with ice-cold lustre, 
Queen regal of each starry cluster, 
Haughty monarch of cold universes, 
Pale maid whose splendor now immerses 
All the granduer of the other planets. 
What gorgeous flame would dare to fan its 
Life to seething masses of a hot desire? 
Pale moon that mocks with burnt out fire. 

sjc * * * 

Now mounting in a breathless dreaming 
Close to this blighted mass of seeming, 
Thin paleness turns to white-heat flame, 
A guardian to a dreamless name. 
Forbade desires and maddened brilliancies. 
Behind the door now opened to a million 

seas 
Of scintillating light and matchless 

jewels 
Comes vampired forms, the death of 

famished fools. 
No faint shades of pastel dimness stand 

profaned 
But shades of gory red, a mass untamed, 
Purples, robes of kings and queens of 

state ; 
Blues and greens, grim forms of hate; 
Gleaming yellows thrown 'gainst black, 
Crossing, massing, flashing back, 



21 



Seething toward a nameless whole. 
Golden birds strut on the bowl 
Of diamond fountains glinting bright. 
Silver birds reflecting silver light. 
Dreams that lie undreamed for years, 
Joys for Joys, Tears for Tears, 
Maddened dancers, motley throngs, 
Lives for Kisses, hearts for songs 
Leaping, falling, rising, singing. 
Mad desires and Love are swinging. 
One last crash of gleeful sounding 
Born through space and then resounding. 
* * * * 

Lessened din and fading glories. 

Drab again the pictured stories. 

No dreamless sleep can lay the boon, 

The land that lies beyond the moon, 

That lifeless mass of cold desire. 

Pale moon that mocks with burnt out fire. 



22 



PERHAPS 

When I see your eyes grow bright with pain 
(Those eyes that haunt me in my sleep) 
After a quarrel so uselessly begun 
And ended with a hurt to both, 
I weep. 

The longing toi possess you all in all, 

Emotion beast-like in its fury 

Haunts my soul that strives the outer door 

of you 
And seemingly thrown back upon itself 
Remains unsatisfied. 

Why do we quarrel — we who love too overmuch ? 
Except to find anew some poignant pain 
Like unto Love new bom within our hearts. 
We quarrel. We hurt. While eyes grow bright 
We love again. 



23 



LOVE SONG 

My soul flings its love song avaunt 

in the breeze. 
Carol and caroling on. 
Love and the birds bring sad hearts 

their peace. 
Carol and caroling on. 
Nothing so poignant, 
Nothing so sweet, 
Nothing so rich. 
And nothing so fleet, 
Carol and caroling on. 

Love in its garden grows flowers so 

rare. 
Carol arid caroling on. 
Gone from the heart all grief and 

despair. 
Carol and caroling on. 
Happy the flowers, 
Happy the bees, 
Happy the birds 
That flit through the trees, 
Carol and carohng on. 

Life's at its sweetest when Love is 
the mood. 

Carol and caroling on. 

Gone are all doubts with their heart- 
breaking brood. 

Carol and caroling on. 

Sweetest the fragrance, 

Sweetest the thought. 

Sweetest the heart 

That the bright day has brought. 

Carol and caroling on. 



24 



WITH YOU 

In the evening, 
When the day is done, 
Comes firehght cheer 
And friendly talk begun. 
Love's old and still 
So new sweet song 
Creeps silently 
Into the day so long. 
When thought with deeper 
Thought communes, 
And love of old books 
And older tunes 
Comes stealing softly 
Through and through, 
Then I am happy 
Just to be with you. 

I find a joy 

Of deep'ning thought 

And kindness 

For hard battles fought. 

And o'er your face 

When the firelight gleams 

The light of love 

And happiness seems 

Just to thrill me 

With that deep content 

That tells me this. 

That Love is meant 

To be the biggest 

Thing we do. 

And I am happy 

Just to be with you. 

• 25 



THE BULLET FACTORY 

Gray mist of early morning — 
Dull black smoke hurling itself low 

over the city — 
The distant blare and grumbling 

of bells and whistles 
Each outstriving the other to rack 

the tired nerves 
Of the sleepy-eyed, highly rouged girls 
Bumping elbow to elbow with Hungarian men 
Reeking of garlic, — 
And flat nosed negroes whose blood-shot 

eyes and flat nostrils 
Add to the sickening mixture. 
The car rolls and bumps, 
Clangs and clamors for an opening 

in the traffic. 
Tired feet shuffle their way out 

down the half-lighted street 
Toward the shop ; 
Feet overly tired from the dance 

ofl, the night before. 
The watchman at the gate salutes each ; 
To one a terse remark, to another 
A greeting quite risque — 
All in the day's events. 
Again the clang of a bell. 
Will that sound never cease? 
It is the time clock. 
Push the card in the opening, 
Press the lever, then the bell. 
Oh, well, what's the use? 
Illy-ventilated, smelling of brass 
Whose particles blacken, the broken 

finger-nails. 
The room fills with struggling humanity. 
This time a louder blare of whistles. 
Grease drips, machinery hums, 
The arms go forward mechanically to grip 
The different levers. 
Bright row upon row of finished brass 
Leap from hands already tired. 
The day has begun. 

26 



CIRCUMSTANCE 

Beneath the good how far— but far above 
the great — Gray 

No clasping hand forwarns the welcome 

brought ; 
No smile of friendship greets the hearth's 

warm fire; 
No calming speech to deeper speech is 

sought ; 
No gladsome hours are spent with heart's 

desire. 
He dared to do— and daring in the deed 
Forewent the solemn trials of lesser creed. 
What matter that he gained through this 

a soul, 
Or daring reached through deeper hell a 

goal ? 
Greater souls from lesser seed have sprung. 
The Gods count well the deed that's 

better done. 



27 



WONDER 

I looked up to the smooth round bowl 
Of flawless blue we call the sky. 
Across the surface moved a cloud 
Fluffed out in rounded cotton shapes. 
Then, as if jealous of such grace 
A cloud of opal splendor came 
To try my feeble, mortal, sight. 
To charm me more it changed its hue. 
Content to shift and stud its pink 
Like shells the diver seeks for gain. 
It mocked me, laughing, its awed slave, 
As wonder-struck, grown mute, I looked. 
Then when its beauty grew too great 
And strove to break my aching heart 
Lo; just behind it gleamed a star, 
The star that lights the wearied traveler 
As he's homeward bound. 
God gives us eyes and hearts and souls 
But gives us niggard speech to tell 
The glory of His handiwork. 



28 



SAHRUH 

Like grasses by the sun-kissed banks 
Of tawny rivers, O Sahruh, 
Sweet grasses swaying lower still 
Stirred by the gentle breeze at noon 
Your lashes sweep on fairest checks 
And cover tawny pleading eyes 
As treach'rous as the river's flow. 
O Sahruh. 

A softened curve of cheek that leads 
To softer curves of rose leaf breasts 
Yield thoughts of sweet unfed desires. 
Come lie you down and bask with me 
While soft the breezes swaying low 
Bend willing grasses to their whim. 
Yield to the scent of lotus bloom. 
Let love its fullest measure take 
While soft the sun pours down its light 
On our dear couch of scented sweets. 
O Sahruh. 



DESOLATION 

My soul is a bruised water-lily. 
It raised itself above the calm 
Of the placid waters of content 
To the warm red air of hot desire. 
Now it droops half broken in the cool 

green leaves 
Of hopelessness. 



29 



LIVING LACQUER 

Like black lacquer 

Carved by Japanese 

Gleams back and forth 

With fierce lustre 

Shadows on moving waves. 

Black on green, green turning black, 

Many formed and many patterned, 

Snaky paths of shining glory, 

Gleaming shadows on moving waves. 



ON READING KEATS 

Words of exquisite sweetness: 

Each wafting perfume as the musk-rose, 

Paying homage to the new moon. 

Opens her petals to show anew 

Her heart. 

Or, as, in the passionate stillness 

Of the hushed summer afternoon 

The bee sips drowsily his treasures 

From hearts of flowers filled 

With gold. 

So, honey-sweet, fall the words 

From a pen that fills but does not satiate. 



30 



I AM NO POET 

I am no poet some will say. 

Perhaps they may be right. 

I am no poet when it comes 

To singing all the sweetest songs 

That nature sings to me. 

I am no poet, this I know 

For other reasons too. 

I can't interpret all the moods, 

Or even half the thrill I feel 

When music masters me. 

I am more speechless at the sound 

Of violins whose sweetest notes 

Set my heart swinging to their beat 

Than slaves are speechless 'fore their kings. 

I can not write about the eyes 

Where I discover empires lay. 

Nor can I write about the Hps 

Whose sweetest kiss I stole one day 

And found the joy it brings. 

I can not tell the colors rare 

When Autumn paints her hues. 

Nor can I tell the sweet perfume 

Of flowers when the springtime sings 

In racing through earth's hardened veins. 

If I could tell just half of these 

And make you see them too. 

Then I'd be more than poets are. 

I'd be a God-head too. 



31 



WANDERLUST 

I long to go on the broad highroad, 
Laughing and glad and free, 
My arms flung out to the gleaming west, 
Just my kit, my books, and me. 

Running on the highroad. 

Skipping down the byroad, 

Heigh O with me. 
My head thrown back to the playful breeze 
That blinds me with my hair. 
I'd turn around the other way 
And stream it in the air. 

Running on the highroad. 

Skipping down the byroad. 

Heigh O with me. 
In rain or shine or gloomy weather. 
Light of heart and lighter feet, 
A gay young song I'd hum awhile 
To every one I'd meet. 

Running on the highroad. 

Skipping down the byroad, 

Heigh O with me. 
A song I'd sell for a bit to eat: 
Most every one would buy. 
For who is there to resist a song 
When there are songs to buy? 

Running on the highroad. 

Skipping down the byroad. 

Heigh O with me. 
But here I sit and long for roads. 
Roads that are long and free. 
But every duty that exists 
Keeps my highroad from me. 

There's no 

Running on the highroad. 

Skipping down the byroad, 

Alas for me. 



32 



UBRARY OF , CONGRESS 



015 929 312 J 



